


Renewed Joy

by Kajune



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bullying, Gen, One Shot, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajune/pseuds/Kajune
Summary: Proto Cu Chulainn is the victim of bullying. Will that ever change?





	Renewed Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday gift for celticpyro.

“Don’t go anywhere too far from me!”

His teacher had told him, and what did he do exactly five minutes later? He went away too far.

A misstep, followed by crumbling soil and Lancer proceeds to fall through a hole. He lands, butt-first, into a dark cave. He’s not sure how far down he’s fallen, but he knows he’s a long way away from the path he was supposed to take with Scathach and their team on their latest mission. 

He feels like an idiot, not helped by the fact that half the team was probably expecting him to do something like this. If he doesn’t make it back alive, he wonders if anyone will mourn him.

As he gets back onto his feet and brushes off leaves and dirt from his armor, Lancer thinks back to how he used to have much higher self-esteem. It mostly crumbled thanks to meeting three older variations of himself. One is a Lancer, one is a Caster, and one is a Berserker, and all of them are Cu Chulainn.

They also collectively refer to him as “kid” or “brat,” as if being a couple of years younger than them makes him so much more immature. They probably resent his youthful optimism, since all three of them act like someone had beaten them up and taught them that the world is not a happy place.

Seeing Lancer, or the younger Lancer, enjoy life with zero regret or shame, probably triggered a berserk button on all three.

They’ve been fairly mean and demoralizing, and if it weren’t for some other Servants actually treating Lancer like he’s someone worthy of respect, he’d probably be the grumpiest-looking Servant in Chaldea.

Which is a frightening thought by itself.

Given that he’s stuck inside a dark, eerily quiet and damp cave, Lancer wonders if his seniors were justified in trying to rid him of his overwhelmingly idealistic view on life.

He _knows_ the world isn’t perfect but that doesn’t mean he’ll spend the rest of his days sulking about it. The other three probably have special brooding time in order to keep a smile on their faces, although in Berserker’s case, he appears to have brooding mode set permanently on.

Lancer chuckles at the notion, but the sound of his voice echoes deep into the cave. He freezes at the possibility that something might have heard him, something hopefully not big.

Lancer does a double take that realizes his spear didn’t fall into the cave with him. He glances up through the hole in the cave’s ceiling, through which the only source of light can come through. He can’t see Gae Bolg anywhere and decides it is best to summon it.

He doesn’t want anyone (especially not Caster) stealing it.

A loud growl resonates from deep within the cave, from within the pitch blackness that Lancer is hopeless in seeing past. Lancer goes completely stiff at the realization that one of his worst fears is about to happen.

No worries though, as Lancer decides with Gae Bolg in hand, he’ll be safe.

The ground shakes under the weight of giant, heavy foot steps. Something is coming.

A rush of adrenaline shoots through Lancer, as the young spearman manages to recall the last time he took down something big on his own. Back then, he had overflowing confidence in himself, in his abilities _and_ his good looks.

He wants to feel like he can fully take on the world again, and not require three older versions of himself to punish him for ever dreaming so.

“Come!”

Gae Bolg flies down towards his hand. The weight and texture of the spear is enough to boost his confidence greatly, but after ten loud stomps, Lancer turns round to find a beast far more larger than anything he’s ever seen, and definitely more dangerous than anything he’s ever fought.

A dragon.

A very large, and angry-looking dragon.

Lancer tries to rein in his apprehension, but he had no reason to anticipate seeing a dragon in a very forested area. He and his team weren’t even told to expect anything beyond maybe a boar the size of a car. Even if caves are notoriously homes to dangerous creatures, Lancer was not expecting something _this_ dangerous to show up.

Smoke puffs out of the dragon’s nostrils, and Lancer notices two rows of very pointy teeth that look eager to tear someone’s flesh apart. He can’t help but nervously swallow, the sight a total shock and one he can’t bring himself to pretend is not scary.

“ _Don’t get killed!” The older Lancer always said, half-joking and half-serious._

“ _I’m not eager to cremate a kid’s corpse.” Caster often remarked while sounding bored._

“ _You probably won’t survive.” Berserker never said anything even remotely cheerful._

Lancer hates the lack of support he gets from those three, he hates how it has affected his self-esteem and he’s almost certain they’d be laughing at him if they saw him now. Scathach would probably punish him in a humiliating way for simply falling into the cave, never mind accidentally encountering a dragon.

He knows he’s in danger, he knows he was wrong to wander off course, even if he had intended to return to everyone’s side soon. Lancer doesn’t need anyone to remind him that he can mess up too.

Lancer clutches the spear tightly and resists every urge to take a step back. He’ll fight against his newfound sense of fear, a fear of death, and prove to his seniors that he is better than them. If he does end up getting eaten, at least no one can argue that he didn’t fight for his life to the best of his abilities.

The dragon tilts its head back and Lancer knows its species well enough to figure out what’s to come.

He dashes to the side as the dragon bellows fire out through its mouth. The heat is intense and Lancer makes sure to keep a good amount of distance between him and the flames. The dragon notices his movement and swipes its front right foot at him.

Lancer jumps backwards and it misses, but his back hits the rocky wall with a loud thud. The dragon turns its whole body round and prepares to launch another trail of fire at him. Lancer dashes towards his left side again and avoids being roasted alive a second time.

The dragon is slow, he thinks, as if old age has caught up to it a bit. Lancer suspects he might actually be lucky this time, but as he prepares to strike at the dragon with his trusted Gae Bolg, the dragon unexpectedly swipes its really long tail at him.

He’s knocked back so hard he slams into the wall, his right arm taking the brunt of the force. He thinks he hears a bone or two crack and hopes he misheard, but his arm definitely hurts when he slides onto the ground, a groan escaping his lips.

He opens his eyes and sees Gae Bolg lying pathetically on the ground near the dragon’s tail, a dangerous spot for Lancer to reach and made even worse by the dragon turning its full body around again to face him. He’s probably imagining it, but the dragon looks particularly smug about the damage it’s done to him.

Lancer takes a moment to think if he should summon his spear first or try to escape the incoming flames first. When the dragon’s head tilts back a third time, Lancer decides to just get back on his feet and dash off again.

Unfortunately, he chose to run a little too early and the dragon is able to launch its fire to the side, sending the flames straight at him while he’s trying to run away.

It’s a shocking sight, and in such a short time span before the fire touches him, Lancer doesn’t believe he’ll survive this one.

_I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot._

He chants to himself, in what could only be described as a slow motion period that occurs before someone’s death. There’s fear, shock and anger mixed into the moment, but the anger is directed at himself.

_I’m an idiot._

The heat approaches, death sings to him as light envelops his vision. Fear becomes the last thing he feels before the fire touches.

…

…

...

Suddenly,

Something strikes the dragon in the neck, stopping the flames from charging out and leaving only a small fraction to dissipate after a mere brush against Lancer, who trips and falls to the ground.

His body is burning from the proximity to the fire, but his armor is soaked by the dampness of the cave’s ground. He’s shivering, torn between the clashing sensations of hot and cold, and shivering because he’s scared.

He’s scared but miraculously alive.

The moment reminds him, briefly, of the day he met Culann’s Hound.

He was really small back then and the hound was huge by comparison. Their subsequent death match earned him his famous name and began a long list of individuals, both human and beast, who ended up dead by his hands.

Needless to say, for a child who had met his first kill, he was terrified.

Like he is now.

His ears aren’t cooperating much, so he barely hears the dragon’s wails. It’s in agony, something deadly has pierced its neck, possibly resulting in a fatal injury. What should be a loud, cave-rumbling outcry sounds to Lancer like a distant murmur.

As he lies shivering on the floor, a gentle pair of hands grabs him by the forearms. Lancer is hauled up into sitting position and then embraced, his head resting on someone’s firm chest. A familiar scent of herbs reminds Lancer of Caster Cu Chulainn, and indeed, when he opens his eyes and looks up, that’s who he sees.

A perky smile greets him in return, and Lancer has to do a double take because _did Caster just see him vulnerable on the ground? Why isn’t he laughing?_

“Shut up!”

Berserker roars a couple of feet away, standing tall and mighty and most certainly glaring at the towering dragon that has a **Gae Bolg** stuck in its neck. The dragon’s head sways helplessly near the ceiling and from where he sits, Lancer can see a familiar face crouching by the giant hole up there.

It’s the older Lancer.

Since Berserker is still holding his spiky version of Gae Bolg, it’s clear to him who threw the one stuck in the dragon’s neck. It’s an excellent shot and one that had just saved his life.

A gentle hand caresses his shoulder.

“Shhh...you’re safe now, kid.”

Caster sounds like he means well, but Lancer can’t help but pout in indignation at the nickname. Before he can muster a complaint however, Berserker roars again.

“I said shut up!!”

His Gae Bolg soars through the air and strikes the dragon right through the jaw, with the tip of the spear sticking out of the top of the dragon’s head, having gone right through where its brain must be.

The dragon stops moving immediately after. The last noise it makes is when its head and long neck slam into the ground, a loud, resonating thud that causes a rumble throughout the cave, but nothing further.

The dragon is dead.

Lancer repeats that thought one more time.

The dragon is dead, and he’s alive.

It’s all thanks to his three seniors too, who had spent every moment before now taunting him like some sort of twisted hobby. He stares at Caster in disbelief. The other Lancer, meanwhile, laughs at the dragon’s misfortune while Berserker curses at it.

Caster just looks like at him with an expression one would only expect from a caring uncle.

“Our teacher ordered us to search for you.” Caster explains, and that does explain a lot. No, Lancer is not disappointed that these three were merely forced into rescuing him. He’s not disappointed at all. “Lucky we got here in time, right?”

Lancer doesn’t deign the druid a reply, instead he tries to get back on his feet by himself. He sees his own Gae Bolg lying half-underneath the dragon’s corpse. _Wonderful_ , he thinks. Lancer stumbles briefly, a dizzy spell hitting him, and he doesn’t fall over and embarrass himself again thanks to Berserker grabbing his arm.

Without words, he yanks Lancer back onto his feet. He’s wearing his usual frown, so Lancer can’t tell if he’s annoyed with Lancer’s fumbling or not.

He shouldn’t care though, since Berserker has always enjoyed bullying him. Lancer focuses on trying to make it towards his spear and silently curses himself for half-expecting the dragon to get back up again. No one says anything as he tries to yank Gae Bolg from underneath the heavy dragon, but Lancer is all too aware that they are intently watching him.

It takes several tugs for the spear to come free and Lancer to slam it upright onto the ground next to him. He uses it to maintain balance, which is a much needed assistance given how winded he feels.

His right arm still hurts badly and there’s a really dark bruise forming on it. He’d be really lucky if a bone wasn’t broken in there.

A period of peace and quiet passes as Lancer gathers his breath and energy. Fear finally subsides as he stares at the dead dragon. Two Gae Bolgs remain stuck in it and covered in blood. Lancer humorously wonders if they should remain there for decoration.

The older Lancer eventually speaks up.

“You ready to come back up yet, kid?”

Lancer pouts at the use of his nickname but nods his head in affirmation. He doesn’t want to stay down here any longer than he has to.

The older Lancer glances over his shoulder and calls to someone. Seconds later, a makeshift rope descends down the hole, dangling right above the dragon’s belly.

“Go on. You first.”

Caster says from his spot on the floor. Lancer doesn’t argue and rushes up to the rope. At the top, he can see the older Lancer as well as Astolfo holding onto the other end tightly. Scathach is also poking her head down and glaring at Lancer. Oh dear.

Lancer latches his spear onto his armor so he can use both hands to climb up. Everything seems fine for a while until older Lancer starts glaring, viciously.

“Look at what I got!”

Caster shouts from below and Lancer pauses to look down. He sees Caster holding a blood-stained Gae Bolg. Since Berserker has already retrieved his one, Lancer realizes why the other Lancer looks so annoyed.

“Hey, bastard! Give that back!”

The older Lancer reaches one hand out, intending to summon the spear back to him. Caster doesn’t protest but he does leave a kiss on the spear right before its departure from his hand. The older Lancer has never looked so disgusted.

As Lancer resumes his climbing, he hears Caster let out a loud chuckle. He’s been doing this for as long as Lancer has known him, trying his best to sneakily get his hands on a Gae Bolg he can use. Out of the four Ch Chulainns, only he was summoned without a spear and it upsets him to no end.

Since the Gae Bolg is something precious, neither the older nor younger Lancer wants to be separated from theirs for Caster’s sake. No one really wants to touch Berserker’s Gae Bolg either, a modified version that is intimidating and unpredictable as its owner.

Once Lancer is close to the top, Scathach extends one of her hands towards him.

“Here.”

He grabs it, and she yanks him away from the rope and onto solid ground in one fluid motion. Grass tickles Lancer’s nose and ears and his arm still hurts but rather than complain, he sighs in relief. He doesn’t care if he looks like a puppy basking in the sun, he’s happy to be out of that deathtrap.

He tugs his Gae Bolg free from his armor and tosses it aside. For once, he doesn’t need to worry about being separated from it.

Scathach doesn’t wait for the other two to climb back up, though. She walks over to Lancer, sits next to him and gently brushes his thick bangs from his face. There’s a loving, maternal look on her face as well. Lancer decides to engrave the sight into his memory.

As expected of such a fierce woman, the loving sight doesn’t last long.

“You’re such a stupid, stupid boy,” She reprimands him, and Lancer ducks his head in shame as much as he can. He quite regrets it when a blade of grass nearly gets shoved up his nose.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes while sincere about it. “I won’t do it again.”

A giggle.

“I don’t expect you to keep your word, but I’m glad you apologized.”

Scathach resumes combing his hair with her fingers. He’s lulled into a relaxed, comfortable state. He can faintly hear the older Lancer and Caster exchanging insults. He really doesn’t mind those two messing with each other. As long as they leave him and his optimism alone, he’s fine.

Which reminds him…

“Those guys really hate me, don’t they?”

He doesn’t expect Scathach to freeze in surprise, nor does he expect her expression to turn sad. While she does resume touching his hair, her expression doesn’t change back.

The solemness on her face looks downright unsettling.

“They have regrets, regrets you have yet to develop in life.” Scathach explains, and Lancer briefly remembers hearing from Emiya that Cu Chulainn didn’t have a perfectly wonderful life. In fact, he hinted that Cu Chulainn’s final years were troubling at best and horrible at worst.

None of his three seniors ever show any indication that life had been that dreadfully hard on them. It’s hard to believe when the three of them seem rather satisfied with life, with additional fun gained by toying with their younger counterpart. It’s hard to feel a bit sorry for them when all they do is make Lancer feel terrible on a regular basis.

Whatever happened in their lives that hasn’t happened in his, Lancer doubts tormenting your younger self will solve the problem.

“Then why do they think messing with me helps?”

Scathach giggles again. She must find his predicament quite amusing. It’s not exactly a secret that he’s the butt monkey of the four Cu Chulainns.

“All three of them are relatively young, especially compared to many other great heroes.” Lancer thinks back and remembers Hector, Ozymandias and of course, Fergus, all of who have lived past their twenties. “So they are prone to childish behavior.”

It sounds like she’s indirectly reprimanding them, which is good. Lancer doesn’t like feeling like he’s the only one who sees the senselessness in their behavior. Lancer groans at the realization that they’ll likely resume messing with his self-esteem once this is over, once they’re back within the walls of Chaldea.

He’s almost tempted to fling himself back into the cave to avoid that.

That is until another hand pats his head.

“Hey, feeling alright?”

Lancer looks over his right shoulder and sees the older Lancer beaming down at him with a happy smile. Radiant, that rare smile is. Although Lancer is more taken aback by the question itself. As in, very taken aback.

“Why do you care?”

He hears Scathach giggle to his left, but judging by the older Lancer’s expression, it’s at the latter’s expense. Lancer briefly notices Caster dusting himself off and talking with the rest of their team. Berserker is just standing off to the side like the anti-social that he is.

“I know, I know. I am a jerk. You don’t have to remind me, teacher.”

The older Lancer grumbles, in a tone of voice he usually reserves for Emiya. Those two bicker as much as Caster complains about his lack of a spear, which is a lot.

Lancer doesn’t move as he watches the older Lancer scratch the back of his own head and prepares to say something he appears uncomfortable with saying.

“I-I...I’m sorry, kid. I won’t be mean to you anymore.”

The apology comes out clearly and eloquently but Lancer is so shocked by it that he throws himself off the ground and scrambles backwards away from the other spearman. It’s a reaction neither his teacher nor the older Lancer expected and they probably didn’t expect him to gasp so loud too.

It seems the others heard him as well but Lancer’s too focused on getting his facts straight to care.

“Wait-wait-wait...Seriously!?”

He’s baffled, bordering on speechless, but the older Lancer doesn’t look eager to take back his words. In fact, he looks dead serious for once.

“I mean it.”

Lancer hears him say, but he isn’t convinced. Instead, he glances at Scathach and immediately suspects blackmail to be involved. It would make far more sense than the idea of any of his three seniors suddenly becoming remorseful. The spearwoman shakes her head without needing to hear the accusation.

“I did not talk him into apologizing. I simply reminded him that he was not doing himself a favor by antagonizing you.” She points towards the other two, Caster and Berserker. “I have also said that to those two, but only Lancer here wishes to make the apology.”

Which is...odd.

Lancer didn’t think any of them had the capacity for feeling guilty, mostly because he himself is not the kind to apologize for mistakes. He’ll breeze through the world like a violent storm and if anyone tries to get in his way, then they’ll get stabbed.

It’s how he’s been living his life since he was small.

What sort of terror could have changed Cu Chulainn into a humble hero?

Undeniably, Lancer is grateful that he is receiving an apology at all. It’s one thing to be a jerk to a complete stranger, but to be a jerk to your younger self? That doesn’t sound right.

The apology also appears sincere, judging by how the older Lancer has his head bowed. When he glances at the other Cu Chulainns, he sees Berserker with an unreadable expression and Caster scratching his head with a frown reminiscence of a puppy with a guilty conscience.

It’s an unimaginable sight.

None of them are laughing or mocking him. It’s not like this morning, when each gave him a discouraging, few last words before they departed from Chaldea to come here. Right now, Lancer’s suffering is being acknowledged and he’s proud of that.

“That’s...good,” Lancer mutters. The red eyes of the older spearman glance up at him curiously. Lancer was probably being too vague. “I’m glad you accept what you guys have been doing was wrong. I am awesome, and I don’t need you to tell me otherwise.”

The older Lancer snorts but he doesn’t argue, unlike the usual.

Scathach claps her hands in encouragement as Lancer rises to his feet and points a finger at the other two. All eyes are on him and hopefully all ears will hear his next declaration.

“I’m a great hero and you better remember that!”

Berserker looks mildly surprised while Caster laughs mirthfully. Neither show any sign of wanting to deny his claim.

“Sure thing, little Lancer. We’ll accept that for now.”

Caster’s admission is most certainly the best he’s going to get any time soon.

Triumph fills Lancer’s heart. Pride surges in and the old, familiar feeling like he owns the world and can conquer any adversary returns. He can feel his self-esteem growing and it’s a wonderful feeling, unparalleled by any other.

A hand starts tugging on his fingers.

“Don’t forget that you still require help from time to time. That dragon did not just fall asleep.”

Scathach is right, Lancer has to admit. Glancing at the Gae Bolg of the older Lancer, he notices the dragon’s blood that is still on it. If it weren’t for that perfect throw, Lancer wouldn’t even be here to enjoy the acknowledgement from his longtime bullies.

If those three can admit to something they might be ashamed of, then so can he.

“I won’t,” He assures Scathach. “I promise you, I won’t forget.”

For once, she doesn’t insist he will fail to keep his promise.

 


End file.
